


I am Half Agony, Half Hope

by roxyryoko



Series: Drabbles in the Dark [24]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route, Fluff, Jealousy, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:09:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25389574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roxyryoko/pseuds/roxyryoko
Summary: While on an errand with Felix to deliver broken swords to the blacksmith, Annette can’t help but feel jealous of the unabashed affection and intimacy that Mercedes and Sylvain exhibit. Could she and Felix ever be so close? So bold?
Relationships: Annette Fantine Dominic/Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Sylvain Jose Gautier/Mercedes von Martritz
Series: Drabbles in the Dark [24]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1590193
Comments: 34
Kudos: 106
Collections: Those Who Drabble in the Dark





	I am Half Agony, Half Hope

**Author's Note:**

> Oh wow! I finally wrote a Felannie fic for one of the Felannie discord prompts! This was a word roulette. I got “fashionable, point, command.”

The marketplace was just as lively as expected for Saturday afternoon. Merchants solicited their wares in boisterous voices, piercing over the chatter of the countless people bustling around. Soldiers filed through the square, alert and imposing, their presence a welcome relief for the many refugees that fled to Garreg Mach seeking divine protection.

On a normal day, Annette would be grateful for the cheer and the trails of gossip. After all, not many moons prior the town had been all but deserted. Now, people swarmed the streets, each one fortifying the war effort with skill or coin. However, this afternoon Annette could only focus on two very unusual things. Both of which caused a flush to rush to her cheeks; albeit for different reasons.

Firstly, Mercie and Sylvain strolled several paces in front of her, arms gingerly linked together with Mercie’s cheek delicately leaning upon Sylvain’s shoulder. Every now and then, she tilted her head up, eyes warm and doting, a wide smile on her face as she engaged in sweet, idle banter. Sylvain gazed down just as affectionately, and if Annette’s eyes had not deceived her, he had pressed not one, but two tender kisses to her forehead in the span of five minutes.

Secondly, Felix plodded abreast of Annette, a mere six inches dividing their shoulders, an arming chest planked between them. Instead of their hands laced together as she so deeply yearned, they both clutched either end of the wooden box, safely escorting broken swords to the blacksmith. Bearing the majority of the weight, Felix fixated his eyes straight ahead, lips drawn in a thin line, all thoughts indecipherable. Annette struggled to keep pace, arms throbbing in protest and breath slightly ragged under the exertion.

Annette’s current struggles were partially her own doing. She _had_ accepted the errand when the Professor entrusted it to her and Felix, greedy for any opportunity to spend time with him. And, she _had_ refused Sylvain’s aid when they originally interrupted their two friends’ amorous outing. Mercie had been so excited the evening before as she fussed over which dress she should wear for the date that Annette couldn’t disappoint her. The timing of the two events simply accidentally collided, and Annette happily bore the weight of both sacrifices for equally selfless _and_ selfish reasons.

Through much persuasion, Mercie and Sylvain relented to only accompany them to the blacksmith with the promise to share lunch all together once the task was complete.

So Annette continued to put one foot in front of the other, hoping foolishly that perhaps on the way to lunch she and Felix could engage in just one-tenth of the intimacy that Sylvain and Mercie exhibited. A foolish thought, indeed, for the idea of Felix’s hands locked together with hers, swinging back and forth, seemed preposterous.

“Oh my, isn’t this just darling, dear?” Mercie beamed, coming to a halt to point at an enchanting cream-colored shawl embroidered with violet flowers predominantly displayed among a merchant’s fashionable wares. “The pattern is simply lovely. I could add to that very easily.”

 _Dear_. Could Annette ever be so bold to say that term to a man as effortlessly as Mercie?

Sylvain regarded the accessory briefly before leaning his cheek upon Mercie’s head, crooning, “It’d be even more lovely wrapped around a certain lovely lady. How about I get it for you, huh?”

 _Lovely lady._ The idea that Felix could ever utter such unabashed sentiments seemed like something from a fever dream.

Mercie swatted Sylvain’s shoulder, but her lips held an amused smile. “Oh, I couldn’t possibly accept that. Besides, it’s not very practical.”

“Nonsense!” Sylvain rebutted, reaching for his coin pouch. “When has a man ever needed a practical reason to get his girl a gift?”

Suddenly, an extremely unapologetically Felix shoved into Sylvain, spinning a linked Annette around in tow. Sylvain’s pouch leapt out of his hands and smashed on the ground.

“We have an actual job to do,” Felix chided, continuing forward without a glance back. “Stop stalling. If you’d rather shop then spare us your company. ”

For a brief moment, Annette believed she found her footing after the initial unexpected stumble, but her hopes were quickly dashed. Sylvain reached for his pouch just as she teetered clumsily around it. Her hip bumped his shoulder, and in the blink of an eye her half of the arming chest tumbled right out of her fingers.

Felix grunted as the weight unbalanced, lurching sideways in a futile effort to readjust. Unfortunately, gravity defeated him easily.

With a loud thud, Annette’s side of the chest slammed onto the cobblestone, bursting open and releasing several split swords, the impact of each echoing with a reverberating clank. Mercie gasped and jumped back as one skittered across the ground, nearly shaving off the tip of her boot.

“Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry, Mercie!” Annette bemoaned as she sidestepped around Sylvain and collapsed onto the pavement to collect the weapon fragments.

As she reached for the first sword her elbow bumped the chest, causing it to rotate forward, twisting against Felix’s iron grip that still held his end several feet off the ground. More swords spilled out.

Annette lamented again, “Oh no, I’m just making a bigger mess. I’m sorry!”

With an exasperated sigh, Felix stooped down beside Annette. “No, it’s my fault,” he said flatly. He set the rest of the chest upon the ground, and began to return the contents.

“Annie, are you certain you don’t need our help?” Mercie asked, immediately bending down to provide assistance.

Sylvain collected his pouch and aided in the effort as well. “Seriously, Annette,” he added while side-eyeing Mercie with a crooked smirk. “I told you I didn’t mind carrying that. It just doesn’t feel right watching a girl struggle.”

Just then, Sylvain’s fingers bumped against Mercie’s and she giggled demurely, a blush rising to her cheeks. The action repeated again. On purpose.

Despite herself, Annette couldn’t help her envy. In contrast, Felix worked in silence and with precision, coldly separated from her. She shoved back her jealousy and tried to return her attention to correcting her accident.

Annette picked up the last sword and placed it back in the chest. Indignantly, she boosted, “The Professor entrusted me with this task. I won’t let her down!”

As she spoke Felix quickly wound the leather straps around the ends, securing them with tight knots. Before he finished, Annette stubbornly heaved the chest back up, hovering it a mere three inches off the cobblestone. Felix darted to provide assistance. Once he had a firm grip on it, they lifted it back to waist level.

“Sure, but she never outlawed help,” Sylvain argued, his lilt a bit rueful, as he and Mercie rose to their feet.

“Let’s believe in Annie,” Mercie told Sylvain.

Sylvain scrutinized Annette a long, silent moment, taking in her sprawled-legged stance and the way her body quivered slightly under the weight. He offered a quick shrug and then flipped his coin pouch into the air.

After catching it, he relented, “All right, Annette, but I’m carrying it if you drop it again, okay?”

“She won’t,” Felix snapped just as Annette’s lips parted to reply. “Annette’s not as fragile as you seem to think.”

Such praise wasn’t as honey-sweet as the compliments that chronically oozed from Sylvain’s lips, but it pierced Annette’s heart in a way that she didn’t think any saccharine gush ever could. Her cheeks flared with heat more intense than any fire spell she had ever manifested.

“That’s right!” she crowed, emboldened. “I can totally do this! And Felix won’t let anything happen to me.” She turned to Felix, a sudden flare of bravery igniting in her chest. If Mercie could speak with endearments then she surely could too! “Isn’t that right, my dear—“ the courage extinguished immediately— “er, swamp beastie.”

Felix nearly dropped his end of the chest.

After recovering, he stared at her for several agonizing heartbeats and then turned his head away, undoubtedly hiding the disdain etched upon it for the botched pet name.

Annette wished she knew a spell to make herself invisible.

“What ever is a ‘swamp beastie’?” Mercie laughed breathily.

“Um, it’s a…a uh,” Annette fumbled to explain. She hadn’t exactly confided many of her songs to her best friend. Felix had merely intruded upon her privacy and overhead her on several occasions.

Luckily, Annette was spared further humiliation by Mercie’s startled gasp as Sylvain threw the cream shawl over her head and shoulders. He howled a laugh from her reaction.

Mercie clutched the edges of the fine weave delicately in her hands, staring at the fabric with wide eyes for a short time before she rounded on him. “Sylvain! This is too much, really. I have no occasion to wear such a lovely shawl.”

He winked at her, a broad smile on his face. “Nah, I think it’s completely _practical_ for a date. I guess you’ll just have to go out with me again to get my money’s worth, huh?”

She blushed scarlet again, but provided no further protest. Instead, she drew the shawl closer to her body. Annette smiled, happy for her friend even though that familiar envy returned.

“Enough of this frivolity,” Felix sneered abruptly. “We have somewhere to be. Come, let’s be on our way, Annette. Sylvain can fall behind for all I care.”

Felix waited for Annette to take the first step and then matched her pace, marching back into the teeming streets. Throughout the remainder of their traipse she swore that Felix’s cheeks were painted red the entire time.

* * *

“I’m trembling in my boots. Is it safe to be in a place like this with the two of you?” Sylvain teased, glancing from Mercie to Annette as they trudged the final paces to the blacksmith’s shop.

Mercie, now cozy in her new shawl, giggled, “I assure you, a sword hasn’t flown out of my hands since our academy days.”

“Okay, okay. Maybe _you’re_ less of a hazard. But, what about our dear Annette? I heard that just last week she picked up an axe in the training room and the whole rack fell down. Just like that” — he snapped his fingers—“boom.”

“Hey!” Annette panted, chagrined. “That _really_ was an accident. And Caspar helped me put them all back.”

“Was that before or after the time you—”

“Sylvain,” Felix interjected, his annoyance palpable, “don’t test me to accidentally drop these swords on _you_.”

“Lighten up, won’t”—Felix shot him a glare—“Fine, I’m done.” Sylvain held up his hands and backed up to the blacksmith’s door. Still, he, beamed a wry smirk. “I really can’t afford to disfigure my handsome face, especially when I’m on a date.”

Felix rolled his eyes as they waited for Sylvain to open the door. Once he did, the rhythmic clang of metal clashing against metal which echoed from inside grew louder, vibrating up Annette’s spine with each hit.

“Hello, Miss Greta!” Annette called cheerfully as she led the way through the threshold, Felix following in suit. “We’ve brought a bunch of swords that are in need of repair.”

“Hey, there,” a voice greeted as the repetitive clanging stopped. “Put ‘em down anywhere.”

Now completely exhausted, Annette struggled to haul the chest the last few steps into the familiar dwelling. Yet, her triumph at coming this far gave her the strength to persevere. One, two, three steps, and Felix halted in the center of the room. Carefully, the two set the chest on the floor.

A figure stood near the kiln, stooping over the anvil with a hammer in one hand and a glowing sword in the other. The fire highlighted her form with a orange hue, a stark contrast to the dark shadows that concealed her face. She set the tool and weapon aside, then approached as Felix opened the chest and Annette stretched out her stiff back. Broad shouldered and sturdy, Greta had a jolly countenance and honey colored hair.

“Whatcha got for me?” she asked with a grin.

Sylvain veered Mercie away to gander at the weapon collection that lined the walls, playfully telling her to keep her hands on him instead of the swords. Thus, Felix and Annette were left to handle business.

Greta squatted down before the chest to inspect its contents. She pushed several splintered blades aside, assessing the multitude and the damages.

“We require these to be repaired with haste,” Felix said curtly.

“No problem,” Greta replied as she stood back up. “I’ll have ‘em done by Wednesday. Sound good?”

“I suppose if you can’t _possibly_ go any faster.”

Greta huffed, offended, “Hey, you want quality don’t ‘cha? It’s just me and the kid, you know.”

Felix crossed his arms. “Very well. I expect them to be finished by Wednesday. No later.”

“Thanks so much, Greta!” Annette bubbled, clasping her hands together. “Everyone in the army really appreciates everything you do for us!”

Greta shrugged. “No problem. It’s a living.” Suddenly, her face lit up with realization and she turned to Felix. “That reminds me, I finished your request.”

Felix’s eyes narrowed, unblinking.

“You know, for your lady friend,” she added, nodding to Annette.

Annette recoiled. “Huh?” she blurted, confused.

Greta turned with a snap, bellowing a command to her apprentice who polished a sword in the corner, “Hey kid! Grab that dagger we made for Fraldarius, won’t cha?”

“Yeah, okay!” the boy shouted back, scrambling to set his task aside and scour through the many finished weapons laid across a long wooden table.

“Just take a sec,” Greta assured, turning back to Felix and Annette.

Increasingly becoming more baffled, Annette whirled on Felix. “Wait—Felix, that couldn’t possibly be for me, could it?”

He gritted his teeth together, face completely red now, and refused to look at her. “Of course it is,” he groused. “Who else could it be for? You weren’t supposed to find out…this way.”

“But I, um, wow…thank you.” At a loss for words, Annette dropped her gaze to her toes and fiddled her thumbs anxiously. Her cheeks felt hot and she lost her breath—and it wasn’t because of the sweltering heat in the shop.

Finally, Greta’s apprentice scurried over to them with a dagger in hand. He held it out to Annette. After a nod from Felix, she tentatively took it in her own hands. The boy disappeared as fast as he had arrived, and Greta looked from Felix to Annette for approval.

The hilt of the dagger was fairly simple, possessing a sleek shaft wrapped in black leather with a wide guard. In contrast, it lay tucked inside a thick cowhide scabbard, decorated with intricate wyvern reliefs, each finely sculpted and glided with gold leaf. All ready overwhelmed, Annette pulled the blade out and marveled at the revealed crest of Dominic carved into the upper part of the steel. It was an immaculately crafted gift.

“Oh, Felix,” she muttered, mouth dry. “It’s wonderful.”

He risked a glance at her finally. “It’s for…times when we’re separated,” he explained, voice soft and low. “You know how to handle one, correct? If not, I suppose I can…I can instruct you.”

“Oh,” Annette murmured. “I’d, um, like that.”

A million thoughts swept across Annette’s mind. She wanted to wrap her arms around Felix, squeeze him tight, and apologize for her silly jealousy and comparisons, even though he was completely oblivious to those turmoils. Yet unparalleled embarrassment kept her rooted to her spot, overtly aware of Greta’s stare as well as the proximity of Felix’s body. If she wasn’t imagining it, he looked just as bashful as she.

“Say, Annette,” Felix began, grabbing her attention.

He cleared his throat and —

Suddenly, Sylvain interrupted, coming up behind them with Mercie in tow. “You and Dimitri sure don’t know what women like.”

With ease—boom— the moment was ruined.

“Shut up,” Felix barked, shoulders tense.

“I’m just saying, what about a necklace? Or a bag? Pick anything but a weapon.” Sylvain shook his head and Mercie stifled an indelicate giggle.

“Shut up,” Felix repeated, agitation crescendoing in his tone.

He handed a large sum of coins to Greta and then returned his attention to Annette. “We’re done here, Annette. Let’s leave.”

“Oh, right,” Annette stuttered, still lost in enamorment. Quickly, she moved to shove the dagger back in the scabbard, but yielded with a yelp when she cut her finger on the side of the blade.

“Ouch!” she cried.

A small droplet of blood oozed from the slice as she held her finger up.

Felix blanched and snatched her hand. “You—keep it in the scabbard until you need it. For your own safety.”

“Sorry,” Annette apologized, watching with held breath as Felix cast a a healing spell over her finger.

The magic tingled her hand and the wound sealed within an instant. Yet, Felix kept his fingers locked around her wrist even after the spell finished. Annette didn’t think the room could be more of an inferno.

“Ah, young love, how sweet the sight,” Sylvain mused, earning a playful nudge from Mercie and a glare from Felix, while Annette wished yet again for an invisibility spell.

Luckily, Mercie attempted a save, addressing them all with her gentle smile. “I’m simply ravenous. It’s time for lunch, isn’t it?”

“I’ll follow you anywhere you want to go, Mercedes,” Sylvain said, and for once, it didn’t sound like a terrible pick up line. Hand in hand, the two exited the shop.

Annette followed and after one step tripped over a wagon wheel precariously placed upon the floor, completely obscured in the shadows. She flailed forward and closed her eyes, awaiting impact. Fortunately, Felix still held her wrist. He jerked her back and she collided into his chest with an “oof!”

“Thanks for that,” she mumbled as she straightened up.

Felix’s grip on Annette’s hand descended to her palm, carefully intertwining their fingers together. He averted his gaze when she blinked up at him, but the twitch in his lips and the draw of his brow signaled his embarrassment.

“Stay close to me before you hurt yourself,” he said as he pulled her along, trudging out the door in pursuit of their other companions.

Greta bid them farewell as they exited, but the woman’s voice was distant and hazy, as if Annette had been dunked beneath the sea. Even the bustle of the masses filling the streets seemed far away and surreal.

Instead, Annette could only focus on two things: Firstly, Felix’s warm hand laced with hers, his arm brushing against her shoulder, not an inch separating them. Secondly, the precious gift clutched close to her heart, a promise of affection and protection.

Those two things were enough to make that Saturday afternoon one of the best she ever had.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to follow me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/roxyryoko)!


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